Sunset Memories
by SendoErika
Summary: At the end of a tiring climb, perhaps more is revealed than just tired cursing and an irritated Uchiha.


**A/N: Greetings my dear guests who have decided to join me in this story. I will make it clear that this is yaoi to begin with, so please close the door behind you if you don't find this appealing. If you do, then great, you are in for some Hashirama Madara fluff because gods the pairing is amazing! This piece was originally written for my school mocks, and now it is heavily modified of course, (which teacher would high mark a piece about anime, I know mine won't), so if it somewhat more in the descriptive genre, you will see why so. Also, this takes place in an AU where after the fight at the Valley of the End, Hashirama doesn't just leave Madara to be eaten by the buzzards, in a cold puddle, on a rainy day. Instead, he heals him, and wha la because of Madara's sexiness, he is brought back to life. Without further a do, let's begin shall we?**

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"It's not so gruesome you know, besides, it will all be worth it once we reach the top!"

Only a tired "mhm" as a response, and Madara could feel his exasperated gaze on him, could feel his pout radiating off him like his usually calming aura. A gust of air whizzed through the raven's lips as his hands made violent contact with pink-dusted cheeks. Madara could not return Hashirama's optimism, not with the fatigue slithering alone tense muscles, a coaxing evil hiss that seemed to act as a lullaby to his aching form. Silent curses presented themselves in his mind, directed to this stupid, stupid dull trudge up the hill and to himself. The Uchiha clan leader did not take it lightly that he had become so infinitely _weak._ Him, the legendary shinobi who's name caused all to tremble in fear, could not even find the strength to climb up a hill.

How preposterous.

The complaining creak of lead-like bones, the deafening whirr of gears in Madara's mind smothering in smoke was simply all too much. Even his most prized Sharingan failed him, sending the scarlet orbs to fade into a lifeless black as he could not help but cast a glare in the Hashirama's direction. _Idiot Senju! Why could you not just carry me to the top!_ His state of mind quite conveniently ignored the processing of how he himself who had grudgingly agreed to come in the first place while _knowing_ his body was not ready, was just as much as an oaf as the man still grinning beside him. Said man turned to him with a mask of concern, Madara not even bothering to get eye contact due to the fact that his neck would quite eagerly snap in an act of giving up did not go unnoticed, and his tanned arm was already casting its shadow on sagged shoulders.

"Do you need-"

"Get off me before I chop your arm off!"

The Senju resisted the urge to roll his eyes, _uh the Uchiha pride_ , but he complies nonetheless. Still looking at his friend, no no that was not the right word, there was so much more than just a _friend_ no matter which way he looked at it, not enemy of course, but a being that filled his heart up with an emotion he could not name. Blind happiness erupted from his heart as thoughts trailed off to just how much their relationship had traveled, _ohh the first time we held hands_ , Hashirama's eyes were still stuck to Madara and had the younger catch sight of this he would definitely gouge his eyes out, but for once, surprisingly, there was no sharp bark of _just go away will you_ , _the warmth still tingling on his shoulder from where they discovered each other's 'obnoxious self-diagnosed neurosis',_ and the Hokage continues in his daze, entranced by this ethereal beauty in front of him. _  
_

Madara on the other hand, was not having such a pleasant time, knowing his legs were going to give way any minute now, the flesh pulsing in a menacing manner with every heavy step. Waves of pain gushed from his centre, the heart evidently signing the "I quit" contract, _well I quit too,_ with each hard jump it has had to do for the past hour. The Devil was taking toll again, every bit of air snatched in by eager nostrils as if afraid they would be stolen. Heavy eyelids drop down heavily, almost completely impeding his view. Summoning the last ounce of his strength, _since when did he try to keep his Sharingan active even around Hashirama?,_ the spinning tomoe return in a whirl as a last attempt to unfog his senses. Once strong hands now way too skinny, instinctively fold under his chest, a useless attempt to keep the pain at bay. _This was a bad idea,_ Madara thought to himself sourly, what on earth had he himself been thinking? To agree to this man's plea, this man who he held close to his heart no matter how hard he tried to deny.

The same man who pierced his heart.

The familiar coldness traced his limp form, freezing the burning of his chakra, the dull aching of pain, even the incoherent thoughts and commands of a tired mind. Like a dead leaf, powerless in the howling wind. Madara made no move to prevent his body from swaying, legs already buckling in a heap beneath him.

A tightening grip, another touch to his left hip. A sudden light light in amidst the swirling darkness gnawing at his vision. Warmth, blazing even more so than his own wildfire so visible in the cold ice-like forest of veins. The raven's crimson orbs gradually fixate on them, letting their flicker dance within the reflection. Madara holds his porcelain hand up, so desperate for the idea of salvation he lunges, plunging towards the only source of light in the black velvet of his dimmed mind teetering on the edge.

"Madara."

A barely audible gasp escaped whitened lips as his soul was flung harshly back into his solid form. The pain in his legs, the burning in a heaving chest, the fatigue running along abused muscles felt almost, non-existent. Like fire, aided in growth by the addition of more wood, like how light suns the Devil away. Crimson orbs move cautiously lift to the right, searching by instinct the owner of this calming aura. They find orbs too, dark too yet a more chocolate brown, that hold an optimism his own failed to mimic. They are bright despite the dark colour, so full of..

"Almost there, just a few more steps."

Hashirama holds the figure like a fragile doll, _he is still too skinny,_ his hands uncertain how much force they were allowed to exert before Madara burned him with the eternal flames of Amaterasu. But, _he probably doesn't have enough strength to do it now anyway,_ the Senju already slightly squeezing the Uchiha's hips, before loosening once more.

 _It's my fault he's so weak right now._

After that fateful day at what would soon to be known as The Valley of the End, Madara's condition had not been too good, that was to say the least. Utterly terrible might be a better phrase, and it only seemed to be going downhill despite Hashirama's best efforts. _Well, your best is just not good enough then Idiot Senju,_ was how the proud warrior had tried to shrug off his concern, said medic took more pain in the guilt for knowing it was him who caused his best friend, _no no not only a friend,_ to be in a such a state rather than his damaged ego. Knowing the Uchiha for so long, Shodai knew better than to believe his unconcern for his health, it was merely a weak assurance to prevent him from falling into its stupor depressed state.

"If you are trying to make me feel ticklish, it's not working."

The tanned male snapped out of his thoughts, not realising that his hands had instinctively tightened at the frustration at himself. Murmuring a soft sorry, he recomposed his thoughts and steadied his hand, securing his...uh, _it would be fine as long as he doesn't know right?_ So Hashirama held his _brother_ protectively closer to his chest, _yes that sounded just slightly better than friend except Madara would bite my head off for putting him on the same level as Tobirama._ Our dear Shodai, being the optimistic oaf he was, had by now completely forgotten about his uncertainty in holding Madara, and a small glint in the raven's eyes was everything one needed to prove that he was smirking to have achieved his goal.

 _Because I do want him to hold me._

Uchiha Madara mentally slapped himself. _What in the name of Rikudou am I thinking?_ Forcefully pushing down his placid lips, he merged his face into an apparent scowl _, now don't you go around lifting yourself lips do you hear me?! I am not smiling for goodness sake!_

Now a little word on the two so far. Senju Hashirama was quite keen to call current companion friend, _no I don't!,_ uhm I meant _brother_ , yes that was the right word wasn't it? _Yes that sounds better, but_ , Oh just let me finish my sentence! As I was saying, Hashirama was happy to call Madara his brother, but it was perhaps the guilt and the complete ignorance that prevented him from using the word _"lover"_ which is actually the one he was looking for. _A brother! After all we have been through, I am only a "brother!" **,**_ would be said "brother's" reaction if he could read Shodai's mind. Need I expand a bit more on how much the Uchihas value love and hatred and the long list of emotions? That would explain why Madara would never call him a lover, let alone a brother, and let alone even friend. It was _-_ _so what exactly do I value him as then?_ Well if you are asking me-actually go back to your own mind so I can finish this off! _Katon,_ ah so before I am incinerated to ashes, Madara's inability to control his emotions is one of the foremost reasons he cannot tell you that Hashirama is the most important person to me now. There was also the guilt, yes just like Shodai he had the guilt that prevented him from completely hating the Senju for what he had done. _  
_

 _Hashirama had conveniently forgotten that it was Madara who attacked the village in the first place, which led to him carrying out his duties and killing him._

Forgive Madara for not wanting to remind him of this particular fact.

Half limping, half stumbling, the two made their way further upwards. The ground, as Madara's keen Sharingan had finally decided to pick up, was gradually leveling, as if it too had gotten tired of taking the form of a slope. All he could see were his mud-drenched sandals moving one in front of the other across wet soil. Too tired to maintain his visual prowess, _I was sure we were safe so I turned it off,_ Madara closed his eyes, placing trust in the half sideways embrace that kept him moving. It was an interesting thing really, how when the world had crumbled in on him, when the blazing katon of his heart had burned out, there was still the small dying ember of defiantly remaining hope. Then, that was strengthened by the tears that fell onto his face, accompanied by the warm green chakra that barged into his form so desperate to heal him. So ironic too, that he had accepted its calming grip when it was the same person who had slammed the katana into his chest...

It was a while before the Uchiha clan leader realised that they had come to an abrupt halt. His forever spiked up hair dance elegantly in the cooling wind, catching the eye of Hashirama, who stared entranced once more at the man in front of him.

"Look up Madara, see what's around you."

 _It must be the fatigue,_ came his weak mental protest as he complied. He didn't usually obey Hashirama, _it's not an order Madara and you know it! It's just a request!_ He couldn't help but snort at the memory of how that had ended. The scene the raven saw next, completely sent all negative thoughts out of his mind, replaced by the sheer amazement that something like this could exist. His eyes widen, letting the dark orbs fully absorb light they have neglected for so long.

A panorama of silhouettes, dyed orange in the setting sun. Mountains standing proud and all, a force to be admired in all its glory. The twitter of birds, heading towards home like a pleasant chatter about what was for dinner. This scene, the beauty of nature and life.

It was ethereal.

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen it before, why it was the same cliff they had been visiting since they were young! But being condemned in darkness for so long, Madara's proud Sharingan had lost their ability to admire, and this, now that he was reborn, it took a toll on him that he could not place. Because perhaps all was not lost, because he still had a future with Hashirama, because he was still, still holding tightly to him after his betrayal with the Kyuubi.

An embrace directs the Uchiha's attention, still in fascination of a new found purpose, back to those dark brown orbs. They search through his own, pleased by the glint that he had lost once, and was never going to let go again.

"Madara, what we built still stands because we are both here. Not only you, not only me, but the _both_ of us." Hashirama says gently, a hand brushing the stray trickle of wetness that escape the corner of Madara's eyes.

And for once, Madara does not scold him for the intimacy, for seeing him cry, he savors his presence. They both do.

"So don't give up. For you, for me."

And as those dark orbs pour every once of its owners thoughts and feelings into the teary ones, Madara catches hint of something he had denied ever since he had left the village.

"Baka, I never said Ill give up. I never said I would."

Hashirama looks at him, clearly confused. But the light in his eyes, the life in his soul is enough to spark the embers with more wood. Perhaps, Madara thinks, when strong hands cup his cheek and his face looms ever so close, perhaps this could be a new beginning.

The shadow of two with lips entwined will remain for this sunset, perhaps the next one too.

And maybe, they will use the word _"lover"_ too.

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 **Phew that's it! Thank you for reading to the end, I would really really appreciate criticism!**

 **Sendo Erika 17.09. 17 Oh today's my birthday OwO**


End file.
